Winter was now drawing near, with its storms and deluges.  Becker therefore felt that it was necessary to make some alterations in their domestic arrangements; and he saw that, for this season at all events, the two families must be separated—­this was to create a desert within a desert; but propriety and convenience demanded the sacrifice.

It was decided that Wolston and his family should be quartered at Rockhouse, whilst Becker and his family should pass the rainy season at Falcon’s Nest, where, though these aerial dwellings were but indifferently adapted for winter habitations, they had passed the first year of their sojourn in the colony.  The rains came and submerged the country between the two families, thus, for a time, cutting off all communication between them.  The barriers that separated the Guelphs from the Ghibelines, the Montagues from the Capulets, the Burgundians from the Armagnacs, and the House of York from that of Lancaster, could not have been more impenetrable than that which now existed between the Wolstons and Beckers.

Whenever a lull occurred in the storm, or a ray of sunshine shot through the murky clouds, all eyes were mechanically turned to the window, but only to turn them away again with a sigh; so completely had the waters invaded the land, that nothing short of the dove from Noah’s Ark could have performed the journey between Rockhouse and Falcon’s Nest.

Dulness and dreariness reigned triumphant at both localities.  The calm tranquility that Becker’s family formerly enjoyed under similar circumstances had fled.  They felt that happiness was no longer to be enjoyed within the limits of their own circle.  Study and conversation lost their charms; and if they laughed now, the smile never extended beyond the tips of their lips.  The young people often wished they possessed Fortunatus’s cap, or Aladdin’s wonderful lamp, to transport them from the one dwelling to the other; but as they could obtain no such occult mode of conveyance, there was no remedy for their miseries but patience.  To the Wolstons this interval of compulsory separation was particularly irksome, as this was the first time in their lives that they had been entirely isolated for any length of time.

At Falcon’s Nest, Ernest was the most popular member of the domestic circle.  His astronomical predilections made him the Sir Oracle of the storm, and he was constantly being asked for information relative to the progress and probable duration of the rains.  Every morning he was called upon for a report as to the state of the weather; but, with all his skill, he could afford them very little consolation.

But all things come to an end, as well as regards our troubles as our joys.  One morning, Ernest reported that less rain had fallen during the preceding than any former night of the season; the next morning a still more favorable report was presented; and on the third morning the floods had subsided, but had left a substratum of mud that obliterated all traces of the roads.  Notwithstanding this, and a smart shower that continued to fall, Fritz and Jack determined to force a passage to Rockhouse.